Traffic Star Development Program

Chapter 14 Bluffing

2:30 a.m., Qianhu City.

Zeng Hao parked his car downstairs in the residential complex but didn't go up immediately.

He leaned back in his chair and twirled the USB drive between his fingers a few times.

The finished product of the first two episodes is here.

From Hengdian to Qianhu City, a distance of 300 kilometers, he drove all the way, going over the negotiation plan in his mind countless times.

By 2015, the landscape of online video platforms had largely taken shape. iQiyi, Youku, and Tencent Video formed a three-way competition, with iQiyi relying on Baidu's traffic, boasting the largest user base, and also investing the most aggressively in online dramas.

But being radical does not mean being easy to talk to.

The more powerful a platform is, the more it exploits content creators.

Zeng Hao clearly remembers that at that time, the buyout price for web series was pitifully low. Low-budget productions usually cost between 50,000 and 80,000 yuan per episode, and if you encountered a powerful platform, it was not uncommon to see prices as low as 30,000 yuan.

With a budget of 900,000 to produce 30 episodes, even if it's a buyout, the maximum return would be around 2 million. After deducting costs, there would be just over 1 million left, which is far from enough for his next plan.

Therefore, buying out the company is not an option.

What he wants is a guaranteed minimum plus a percentage of the profits.

The question is, on what basis should the platform agree?

Produced by an unknown production company, without any big-name actors or a famous director, and with a production budget of 900,000, it's a small fish that any purchasing director could easily handle.

Zeng Hao stuffed the USB drive into his pocket and got off the bus.

He needs a card, a card that will make the platform uneasy.

He had already decided on this card.

At nine o'clock the next morning, he sent a text message to Zhou Ming, the person in charge of content acquisition at iQiyi.

The two weren't strangers. Several projects that Sunshine Entertainment had previously invested in had been in contact with iQiyi, although most of them were small-scale, but Zhou Ming's name was in their contacts.

The message was simple: There's a new project I'd like to discuss in person, preferably this afternoon if it's convenient.

Zhou Ming replied quickly: 3 PM, iQiyi Beijing North Office.

The other party went to Beijing on business, there's nothing I can do.

Zeng Hao checked the time and booked a high-speed rail ticket for 10 a.m.

Inside the train carriage, he plugged the USB drive into his laptop and watched the first two episodes from the beginning.

Peng Bing's editing was fine, and the pacing was well controlled.

In the opening scene of the first episode, the first reaction after accidentally wearing the costume is to touch his chest, and then frantically look for a bronze mirror—this is a joke at the beginning.

Zhang Tianai's performance was unexpectedly good.

She portrayed the panic, humiliation, and helplessness of someone who had just discovered something, and she did so naturally, without any sign of overacting.

Zeng Hao shut down his computer, closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and his mind returned to the negotiation.

Several hours later.

iQiyi's Beijing office is located in Haidian District. Zhou Ming, a man in his mid-thirties wearing glasses, worked in the content acquisition department. He shook hands with Zeng Hao, exchanged a few pleasantries, and got straight to the point.

"What project?"

Zeng Hao placed the USB drive on the table. "An ancient costume time-travel comedy, thirty episodes, low-budget production, the first two episodes are available. Take a look first."

Zhou Ming glanced at the USB drive but didn't accept it immediately. "How much did it cost?"

"Nine hundred thousand."

Zhou Ming's expression didn't change much, but something flashed in his eyes that Zeng Hao recognized: contempt.

Who is the director? Who is the lead actor?

"Director: Peng Bing; Starring: Zhang Tianai."

Zhou Ming scrolled through his phone and searched, "Not very famous."

"That's why I came to talk to you," Zeng Hao said. "If it were a popular lead actor, I wouldn't need to negotiate with you."

Zhou Ming smiled, plugged the USB drive into the computer, put on his headphones, watched for about twenty minutes, and then took off his headphones.

"The production is alright," he said, using the kind of tone that an experienced person would use before giving a bad review, "but the subject matter is too niche. The male-to-female transmigration setting has a narrow audience. Our platform mainly promotes female-centric dramas and sweet romance dramas, so this direction is not quite right."

Zeng Hao didn't speak, waiting for him to finish.

"If it's a buyout, we can offer 50,000 per episode, 30 episodes, 1.5 million," Zhou Ming said. "That's the maximum we can offer for low-budget projects right now."

Zeng Hao unplugged the USB drive and put it back in his pocket.

Zhou Ming was taken aback. "What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean is that I'm not considering this price," Zeng Hao said, his tone completely unchanged. "Fifty thousand per episode, buyout. I don't do business that loses money."

"So what conditions do you want?"

"A guaranteed minimum plus a share of the revenue," Zeng Hao said. "The guaranteed minimum is one million, and after the number of views exceeds fifty million, we will take 40% of the revenue from the excess."

Zhou Ming laughed, the kind of laugh you can't help but have after hearing an unreliable quote. "President Zeng, a small web series with a budget of 900,000, you want us to guarantee a minimum of one million? Over 50 million views? What do you think the chances of that?"

"You think it's impossible, so this condition won't cost you anything," Zeng Hao said. "If I'm right, you'll make a fortune; if I'm wrong, you'll lose at most a guaranteed one million, which is a drop in the bucket for iQiyi, and it's still 500,000 less than the price you just offered."

Zhou Ming was silent for a moment. "The key issue is the guaranteed minimum plus commission model and its proportion. What makes you so confident?"

Zeng Hao leaned back in his chair. "You just said that the audience is narrow and the male-to-female setting is too niche. But have you ever thought that precisely because it's niche, it has no competitors right now? Once this genre becomes popular, all the traffic will be concentrated on this one show, and there will be no one to share the audience with?"

He paused for a moment, then continued, "I don't know your internal data on online drama users in 2015, but you're more aware of one trend than I am—the bullet screen culture started to emerge. Viewers weren't just watching; they wanted to participate, discuss, and create memes. This drama has a lot of memes that can be spread a second time, something that female-centric dramas can't provide."

Zhou Ming's expression became slightly more serious, but he didn't relax. "What you said makes some sense, but this kind of judgment is too subjective. I can't explain this to my superiors."

"Then how are you going to explain this to your superiors?" Zeng Hao asked directly. "How are the viewership numbers for those low-budget dramas you bought last quarter?"

Zhou Ming did not answer.

Zeng Hao didn't expect him to answer, and just continued, "I have another appointment this afternoon. Someone from Tencent Video also wants to talk about this project."

After saying this, Zhou Ming tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

Zeng Hao's words were only half true. If things didn't go well here, he would definitely go to Tencent.

Although it may sound a bit like bluffing, the competitive pressure is indeed real.

Zhou Ming picked up his phone. "Wait a minute, I'll make a call."

He went outside and stood in the corridor for about ten minutes. When he came back, his expression was different. "With this model, I can't approve a minimum of one million; the maximum is eight hundred thousand. The profit-sharing ratio is negotiable, but 40% is too high. We can only offer 20%."

Zeng Hao shook his head. "A minimum of 900,000, with a 30% split, and the minimum viewership is lowered to 30 million. If it's less than that, I'll go to Tencent."